The Nearest Exit May Be Behind You
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Spoiler Alert for 4x20 'The Limey'.  I watched Sneak Peak 5 today...and so, this... Cue the red Ferrari. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1  Fasten Your Seatbelt

**The Nearest Exit May Be Behind You**

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert. Okay, so I caved and watched Sneak Peak 5 for 'The Limey'. This was the result…

* * *

><p>"Castle, is everything<em> okay<em>?" she asks, looking at him with fresh eyes; the eyes of a concerned friend, rather than a spurned lover.

They're not lovers. No. But then that's _her_ fault, and it's taken _this _for her to recognize it.

'_This_' being his arrival at a fresh crime scene in his cherry red Ferrari, accompanied by a mystery blonde, who bears an uncanny resemblance to his ex-wife Gina. In fact, the Ferrari has just departed again at high speed, driven off by the aforementioned identikit blonde, tires squealing.

Kate shakes her head.

He looks like shit, she thinks, taking in the shadow of stubble ghosting along his jawline, the deepened wrinkles running from nose to mouth, and the thumbprint-sized dark circles smudged beneath his deep blue eyes. Eyes that look duller and deader than she's used to seeing. Haunted eyes that take her back to a darker time in their shared past.

* * *

><p>Lanie's been bugging her for days to tell him how she feels about him. If she's honest her friend has really been nudging her towards him for years, trying to get her to own up to her feelings, and put everyone around them out of their misery. But things have reached crisis point in the last week or so. Castle's going off the rails before her eyes, playing up to every crass, irritating, brash, playboy stereotype she knows he has in his arsenal, because she was there when he was playing this game the first time around, before…<p>

Okay, dammit. _Enough_, she thinks, taking a deep breath.

She stalks away from him, striding across the blacktop, her heels striking the asphalt with a metallic ring, leaving him standing in the neon-lit parking lot alone.

The blue police lights bounce off his pale, sleep-deprived complexion, and the fake, plastered on, theatrical, 'I'm on top of the world, Beckett, honest Gov' smile he's been wearing since he stepped out of the car drops clean off his face the moment her back is turned, because maintaining it a second longer takes more emotional energy and more heart than he has left in him.

He's more miserable than he's ever felt in his entire life. More miserable than two divorces, rejections from publishers, bad reviews, his mother's cooking, that summer without her, ever made him. Because at least that summer he had hope. A faint hope, but hope none-the-less. Now he has nothing. Just a confirmation that she knows that he loves her, and she doesn't feel the same way.

* * *

><p>Kate arrives by Lanie's side, grabs her by the arm, and drags her off into the shadows.<p>

"Kate, honey, what they hell?" exclaims her friend, rubbing her arm. "Where's lover boy?" she asks, looking around for Castle.

Kate glances down at the metal thermometer dangling from the M.E.'s fingertips, wrinkles her nose at the faint smear of blood and liver tissue on the sharp tip then looks back at her friend.

"Lanie, I can't do this anymore," warns Kate.

"Let him get it out of his system, Kate. He'll soon burn out," she tries to soothe her distressed friend. "Just…give him time."

"No, I mean I need to tell him _now_. No more time. No more waiting. He's…I need to fix this, Lanie. So, just hit me with your _premature_ analysis of the murder victim, and then…"

Kate tugs at her hair, freeing it from the chignon she twisted it into when the call came in at 2.00am, and she fled her warm, but torturously empty bed, for this damp, cold, motel parking lot. Curls tumble free around her shoulders. She's wearing a pale grey scarf around her neck, and she fiddles with it nervously while Lanie presents her preliminary findings.

She can hear Castle chatting to the boys just around the corner. He's sharing some crass joke about a donkey, a dolphin, and a legless woman, and if she didn't know him as well as she does - from the heart on out – then she'd never give him a second look. He'd just be another loud mouth jerk with a flash car, no scruples, and too much money to throw around.

But there's no getting away from it…from him. Because she _does_ know him, only too well, and she can see the hurt he's masking with humor, his go-to coping mechanism. And just as he doesn't begrudge her hers, she finds she can't begrudge him his either.

* * *

><p>Ryan appears round the corner, calling out in the dark for them.<p>

"Over here," yells Kate, squeezing Lanie's arm.

"What's…?" asks Ryan. He stops when he sees the look on Kate's face.

She's not quite sure what he sees there, but it's enough to spur her into action, because they've let themselves be derailed once too often by interruptions.

"Ryan, I want you to take the lead on this one. Lanie will bring you up to speed," says Kate, fleeing before he has a chance to ask her why.

She strides over towards Castle and Esposito, her hair flying in the damp air. The writer is miming the outline of a particularly curvaceous woman's figure, if the sweeping dance his hands and arms are performing is anything to go by. They're ginning like dirty little schoolboys sharing a rumpled copy of Penthouse. But she tells herself this is her fault too, and pushes on towards them.

"Espo, Ryan's running point on this one. Castle, _you're_ with _me_," she commands, tugging the writer's arm and dragging him firmly away, ignoring the startled looks both men are giving her.

* * *

><p>When they hit the dark shadows in the dirty alley behind the motel, Kate lets go of Castle's arm, and he looks tense and uncertain for the first time in days. She's knocked some of the cocky out of him for now. Good. Time to step it up a gear.<p>

But before she can formulate her first thought, his mask slips back into place, and he leers through the dark at her.

"Did you _do_ something," he gestures with his hand, "with your hair, Beckett? Because it looks kinda…" he swallows, playing a role, she can see, "…kinda sexy," he says, thrusting out his jaw as if daring her to hit him.

So much for what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. He's still feeling reckless evidently. Gambling. His boundaries are gone, driven away by something that looks like pain. Though she's yet to figure out why.

She ignores the '_compliment'_? Looks him in the eye. They've done so much hiding in their time (working) together for two people who are actually insanely in tune in so many ways. They finish one another's sentences for god's sake. Married couples take years to get to that…

Shit, Kate. Focus.

He's staring at her. Waiting.

"Why did you give the case to Ryan?" he asks finally, frowning at her, his voice cold and disapproving.

"Because _we_ need to talk."

He looks afraid, ready to run.

"No. No, we don't. _We_ have nothing to talk about. Work, Beckett. Come on," he says, turning to flee the alley.

If it weren't so pitiful she'd laugh.

"You're off the case, Castle," she calls after him.

"_What?_" He whirls back round to look at her.

"I said, you're _off _the case. Me too. So get over here, and listen."

"Beckett, what the…"

"It's Kate. Just..._Kate_," she says, determined to put him on the back foot so she can break down his…_walls_?

She mentally shivers at the familiar analogy. Yeah, they're more alike than she'd care to admit.

"So, _Kate_, what did you want to talk about? Secrets, lies, hiding from…"

Kate frowns at his bitter little speech, and cuts him off without really listening to what he's saying.

"_You_."

"_What?_"

"I want to talk about _you_."

"What about me? My devilishly handsome good looks? Or, my enormous…"

Oh, Castle. He's hiding in humor again.

"_Castle!_" she barks.

He stops talking, and sags a little, his act finally running out of steam.

"You've been…_different_ these last few days. Distant. What's going on with you?"

"What's going on with _me_?" he asks, a note of incredulity to his tone.

Kate frowns, unsure what he means. But she ignores it and plows on.

"I care about you, Castle," she says, her voice sincere, her face softening. "And I'm worried."

"Rick. It's just Rick," he parrots, and Kate takes a deep breath, tries to cut him some slack. Because whatever it is that's bugging him must be bad. She's never seen him like this before - so bitter - certainly not with her.

"Right, _Rick_. Well, anyway. Talk to me."

"Why?"

"_Why?_" she asks, puzzled. Not what she was expecting.

"Yes. _Why_ should I talk to you, _Kate_? It's not like we share our…our _issues._ That's not our thing."

"Not our _thing_?" she repeats. "So, just what _is_ our thing, then, Rick?

Maybe she'll learn something.

"I'm not sure anymore. I thought I knew. But I don't. Look. If we're not working this case I really have to go. I promised I'd phone Jacinda…"

"_Wow_! I'm impressed. You remembered her name," snipes Kate, the sarcastic little comment slipping out by accident. "And a _flight attendant_. Gee, how original."

He stares at her, his eyes radiating hurt, then turns to walk away.

"Castle…Rick, _wait_. _Please_? I'm…sorry," she calls after him.

He stops. She watches his broad shoulders fall, outlined in the soft, black leather of his jacket.

"Kate. I've done enough waiting to last me a lifetime. It's time I started living again. I'm sorry too," he says wearily, backing out of the alley.

**_Any thoughts?_**


	2. Chapter 2  Adopt The Brace Position

**The Nearest Exit May Be Behind You**

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert. I caved and watched Sneak Peak 5. This was the result…

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Adopt The Brace Position<strong>

She has to stop him from leaving before it's too late.

Kate looks around in panic, spots an empty beer bottle propped up against the edge of a Dumpster. Rashly, she picks it up, and smashes it against a wall. The glass shatters, the effect loud and disturbing, the report close to that of a gunshot, magnified and echoing off the narrow walls of the alley.

Splinters of dark green glass rain everywhere, and Kate curses as one catches the top of her foot, nicking it, and causing a bead of bright red blood to rise to the surface of her skin.

She loses track of Castle in her haste to remove the shard of glass and stem the trickle of blood that's threatening to ruin a good pair of shoes.

"Kate? What happened?" he asks, appearing suddenly out of the dark, and kneeling down next to her, his face filled with concern.

He's a little out of breath. He must have jogged the length of the alley when he heard the bottle shatter. This is a good sign, she thinks. Maybe he still cares after all.

His fingers touch her hand, and she pulls away as if his skin is on fire, meeting his eyes as she does so. She's horrified by the hurt that flashes in them.

No, Castle. I didn't mean…

But it's gone before she can remedy it. The shutters come down again.

She reaches back down and skims his knuckles with her fingertips, and this time it's Castle who flinches. They have to stop doing this. It's going to kill them both.

"What happened?" he presses her again, pulling a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it into her hand.

_Oh, Castle._

"I…I…" she can hardly take her eyes off his mouth. They haven't been this close in days, and it's making her dizzy.

Why the hell did I not do something about this sooner, she thinks to herself? He's intoxicating.

"You what?" he prompts, looking at her in confusion.

Smashed a bottle against a wall so you wouldn't leave me alone in an alley before I could tell you how I feel about you, she thinks?

Instead, she lies. Because she's good at that.

"I must have kicked it over…in the dark," she says, frowning to herself. Because even in his distressed mental state she's pretty sure he'll see right through her.

But he's too busy tending to the cut to take full notice of the strain in her voice as the lie catches in her throat, threatening to choke her.

"I don't think there's any glass left in it," he says gently, skimming the surface with the handkerchief, soaking up the blood. "Can you feel anything jagged?"

Kate is mesmerized by his hands; his large, smooth, tan, capable hands, tenderly ministering to the surface of her foot.

"Eh…_no_?" she says, the answer coming out sounding like an uncertain question.

He looks up at her face, suddenly. Whatever he sees there worries him.

"This alley is filthy, Kate. That bottle's been lying out in the open. We should take you to a hospital, get you checked out."

Kate nearly laughs. But he persists, because this is Castle, and when he gets the bit between his teeth, and a good disaster story going, there's no stopping him.

"Weil's disease, blood poisoning, never mind the bacteria that could have been left on the rim by some hygiene-challenged, gingivitis riddled…is your Tetanus shot up to date?" he asks, looking at her with concern.

Kate blinks. Chokes back a snort. He's so darn cute when he's playing papa bear.

"Castle, I'll be fine. Honestly," she tries to reassure him, feeling guilty now that she's keeping him there under false pretenses.

But blood is still oozing out from the cut, staining the white cotton bright red. She tentatively lifts the hankie to take a look, and an uneven flap of skin lifts with it, opening up the cut again. Damn. It's worse than she thought. She probably needs a stitch.

"Still, we shouldn't take any chances," he's saying. "Do you…is your car nearby? he asks hesitantly.

They haven't spent much time alone lately with just the two of them in a confined space. He's been running away from her or surrounding himself with her colleagues at every opportunity. Maybe that's what's making him so nervous? Shit, thinks Kate. Jacinda!

"Castle, your…your lady friend," she says awkwardly, "she'll be waiting for you. I've got this. You can go. _Really_. Retrieve those hot wheels of yours before she…" but she can't finish the light-hearted joke she was attempting to make, because the thought of him, with that bouncy, pneumatic, platinum blonde stewardess…it makes her feel nauseous. Nauseous and _possessive_.

"Kate, you look pale," he persists.

Yeah, well it's nearly three in the morning, I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of you with someone else, I'm worried I've missed my chance with you, my foot is bleeding into a lovely pair of Madden's, and we're in a poorly lit alley. Paris Hilton would look pale right about now. She says none of this, however.

Because all of a sudden, he's got her by both elbows, and he's helping her to stand, lifting her to her feet. His hand briefly settles at her waist and they both still for a second.

It's just a brief fragment in time, but it's pivotal. Kate senses it, rather than sees it. He's behind her, so close she can feel his warm breath on her neck, and it's so dark, but she feels a shift in him. That powerful, mutual attraction, a familiar need that mirrors her own.

"Okay," she nods. "But I warn you, they'll probably laugh and turn me away."

"Then they'll have me to deal with," he says, still a little stiff, but looking more like himself than he has in days as he guides her back towards the lighted parking lot, his fingers ghosting the small of her back.

_**Thoughts?**_


	3. Chapter 3  Pull The Red Toggle Sharply

**The Nearest Exit May Be Behind You**

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert. I caved and watched Sneak Peak 5. This was the result…

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Pull The Red Toggle Sharply Downwards<strong>

They walk to her car, passing Lanie and the boys a little way off across the motel parking lot. Her friend raises a hopeful face to Kate, gives her an encouraging smile, and the question is there in her eyes. Kate nods slightly towards her, raises her hand in a small wave, telegraphing 'not quite yet, but nearly there', she hopes.

Castle opens the passenger-side door for her, waits while she settles herself inside, and then gently closes it again.

Kate presses his now well-stained handkerchief to her foot once more, soaking up another trickle of blood that refuses to coagulate in the cold night air.

"You have a preference?" he asks, and Kate looks at him askance.

Radio station? Route? Your place or mine?

Her mind drifts. Oh, god, he's still waiting for an answer. Kate flushes, her brain seizing up as her eyes land on the smooth back of his hand, curled around the gearshift. Waiting.

"Kate?" he asks, concern in his voice. "Hospital? Bellevue or Beth Israel?"

_Oh._

"Eh…closest…just, whatever," she adds vaguely.

"Bellevue it is then."

* * *

><p>Traffic is non-existent at this ungodly hour, and so they speed through the dark, rain-slicked Manhattan streets without obstruction.<p>

Kate's mind is a whirl of panicked thoughts. She feels like an invisible clock is ticking; that she only has so long to tell him how she feels, to fix them, before real life and its' inevitable interruptions intervene again.

Castle glances over at her from time-to-time. He has been the silent one lately, trying to hold the knowledge of her secret inside, to prevent his humiliation from gulping down the air it needs to breath and make itself know. Her sudden silence is worrying him, and it makes him want to do something to repair things, instead of break them for good and walk away. But he hates this feeling, because he's worried it means he's too weak, that she has too much of a hold over him. God, who is he kidding? She's had his heart for years now. How did he think he'd ever escape that?

He parks and they get out. Kate's got one shoe in her hand, propping herself up against the car by the time he walks round to help her out. Damn independent woman.

"Here, at least…lean on me," he says, rather awkwardly slipping his arm around her waist so she can use him as a human crutch.

How did they backslide so fast? To _this_ - where touching seems like such a bad idea?

His fingers tense on her side as they hobble towards the light. A couple of wounded birds; wings damaged, incapable of flight. But still capable of singing.

She needs to find her voice.

Kate blinks against the harsh ER lighting; the fluorescent tubes washing her face clean of any life-affirming color.

The reception area and triage is busy; a motley assortment of late-night drunks, the bloodied, shocked victims of random acts of violence, and the usual array of vocal, twitchy lunatics awaiting a psych eval.

Castle shocks Kate by reaching inside her jacket with his free hand, his fingers grazing her abdominal muscles in the process causing an instant contraction and a flash of arousal that shoots to her core.

What the _hell_ was that?

But he just unclips her badge from the waist of her pants, palms it, and walks calmly towards the officious looking receptionist.

Good. He's taking charge. So much better than this maudlin drifting he's been doing lately.

He charms the woman the way only he can, explains the situation patiently.

"My partner here, she was injured on the job tonight. You know how it is…line of fire…blah, blah…blah."

Kate loses focus again. Drifts back inside her head as little flutters of panic turn her stomach into a roiling thing.

* * *

><p>Next she knows, he's leading her to an exam room, helping her hop up onto the table, her arm briefly around his neck, her lips practically grazing his ear.<p>

He has her slightly bloodstained Steve Madden in his hand, the spiked heel curving down out of his palm. He looks like Prince Charming searching for his Cinderella.

We _shall_ go to the ball, Castle. Just give me time.

He sits in the seat beside her gurney and places her shoe on the floor. His knee jiggles up and down, he stares at his hands, steepling the fingertips, inspects his nails, fidgets, runs a hand through his hair, takes a breath, tries to speak.

"Kate?"

"Yes?" she asks eagerly. Whatever it is…_yes!_

But her reply is all _too_ eager apparently, because he recoils at her rapid response, looks startled.

"Coffee? Eh, you want coffee, Beckett?" he forces out.

"Sure," she says, disappointed.

The ball is still firmly in her court then.

He stands, takes off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair, and then pats his back pants pocket once, checking for his wallet in a move Kate's seen him perform so often it grazes her heart with it's familiarity.

"Be right back," he says, catching her eye briefly. His hand skims her knee, an act of reassurance.

There's screaming somewhere down the hall; high pitched and animalistic. Feet run, and rubber soled shoes squeak on the polished floor tiles. He squeezes again, just once, to comfort, and leaves.

* * *

><p>Kate looks around, takes in her surroundings, and shakes her head in shame at how she brought them here tonight. A lie heaped on a lie. She's getting too good at that…lying to him. Her honesty muscles are getting flabby from lack of use.<p>

She tests the words on her tongue. I lied to you. I need to be honest with you. I want…no I _need_ you to know that I…

His phone buzzes in his jacket, the vibration reverberating off the back of the plastic chair. It's 3.45am. Who would be calling him at this hour? What if it's Alexis, or his mother? Maybe there's an emergency?

Like a cop at a locked door saying to his partner, 'did you hear that? I'm sure I heard screaming inside,' an old-school excuse for entering without a warrant, she reaches into his pocket and withdraws the phone.

The screen is lit up, an unknown number flashing. When the call flicks to voicemail the screen settles down, and then the display reads '7 missed calls'. She's still holding it in her hand when he comes in carrying their coffees, his eyes twinkling, a warm, relaxed smile on this face.

"Kate, you won't believe what I just…"

She holds it out to him. "I thought maybe…Alexis or Martha. I'm sorry."

He hands her the coffee in exchange for his phone. His eyes are shuttered again, wary.

When he doesn't lift the phone to dial Kate says, "She's called you seven times, Castle. You should go to her."

He looks at her dumbly. No, maybe more like she's the dumb one.

"Castle?"

"Huh?"

"Jacinda. Your…"

What? One night stand? Girlfriend? The future Mrs. Castle?" Oh now she's just torturing herself.

"Later," he grunts, shaking his head dismissively.

Like a drunk on the point of crushing, shattering, alarming sobriety it's dawning on him how badly wrong he's been getting all of this.

He reaches out and unfurls the grey scarf from around her neck, slides it gently out from under her hair and folds it up in his hands. She looks warm. The over-heated hospital is a breeding ground for bacteria, he thinks distractedly, as he feels the smooth silk move under his fingers.

"But she's…" Kate begins to say.

What? Waiting for you? Got your car? Stolen your heart?

"Irrelevant," he fills in for her.

Oh, that sounded _good_.

"But Castle, she's…" Kate starts to protest again, wondering why she's working so hard to sabotage herself.

"Drop it, Kate," he warns her with a low growl.

She stares at him in surprise, as if he just slapped her across the face.

"Castle you just can't…"

"I can…I _am_. My place is here." _With you._

He doesn't say it, but she hears it none-the-less. Reads it in his eyes, in the way they soften and then instantly flick away, like he's scared she'll see too much in there.

"I'm sorry I ruined your plans…your night," she says after a moment's silence.

"You didn't. You probably saved me," he admits, staring at the floor, examining a fleck of blood she deposited there.

"Saved you?" she asks, puzzled.

"Yeah. From making a really dumb mistake. From starting something I know I don't want."

What _do_ you want? She really needs to know. _Now._

Kate reaches for his hand, her fingers outstretched. He jumps when they wrap around his palm, but he doesn't pull away.

"Castle, we need to talk. I mean…_really talk_," she says earnestly.

He doesn't run this time, or object. So this is progress.

But he looks so afraid that she thinks there's no way she can take this slowly; start at the beginning and unfurl the story in that easy, methodical manner he does so well. Because she's not sure he'll make it to the end intact.

Better to jump right in. Rip off that Elastoplast.

"I have something important to tell you. Castle, I…"

The curtain swishes open on the rail around the bed as the ER Attending chooses this moment, _this exact moment_, to arrive.

_**Thoughts?**_


	4. Chapter 4  The Bag May Not Inflate

**The Nearest Exit May Be Behind You**

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert. I caved and watched Sneak Peak 5. This was the result…

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 – The Bag May Not Inflate<strong>

Castle stands, greets the doctor with a formal handshake, like a father meeting a prospective son-in-law Kate thinks, not for the first time admiring his manners and civility, that easy way he has with everyone.

Well, everyone but her, it seems right now.

Because when he looks back at Kate, there's relief in his eyes, relief that they've been interrupted. And there's no small amount of sadness there too.

Her heart vaults in her chest, a surge of pain rushing up into her throat. Tears sting the backs of her eyes, and she looks confused and embarrassed when the doctor addresses her.

Castle sees it first. How adrift she is, and he steps in to save her.

"Piece of flying glass caught her foot. Shard of a beer bottle. Messy take down, dark alleyway, you know how it is, doc," he adds with a chummy slap on the back. "Detective Beckett was reluctant, but the filth around that Dumpster…" he trails off, running out of energy for this little concoction, and the doctor mercifully takes over.

So it seems she's not the only one who's capable of lying tonight.

"I guess I'll just…leave you to it," he says, giving Kate a look before pulling the curtain back.

"Castle," she calls out, and he turns back round to look at her.

His eyes look tired, emotionally wrung out, but he lifts his game once more, and plasters on his poker face for her.

"Yeah, Kate?"

"Don't go…far?" she asks, and he nods once.

"Be right down the hall. Yell if you need me," he adds.

* * *

><p>A nurse comes in to clean the wound once the doctor has established that all of the glass is gone. It needs a couple of sutures. She wishes Castle were here to hold her hand while the nurse pumps a syringe full of Novocain into the bony surface of her foot.<p>

When she shrinks away from the approaching needle the nurse pauses.

"You want me to get your boyfriend for you, honey?" she asks.

Kate nods slowly at the kindly woman, a lump in her throat making it too difficult to speak. She's exhausted. Wants this all to be over. The responsibility for saving them is getting to be too much.

The woman leaves the cubicle and returns thirty seconds later with a bashful looking Castle.

"Here she is," the nurse says warmly, smiling at them both. "Just sit yourself here, honey," she says to Castle, "and hold your good lady's hand."

Kate blushes, dips her head and purses her lips to keep a smile in. Castle's eyes twinkle for the first time in forever.

"Good lady?" he mouths at her, and she shakes her head, curls bouncing, unable to stop the wide, radiant smile that breaks across her face this time.

He answers it with one of his own. A spectacular smile that reaches all the way to his eyes.

God she loves him so much.

Do they have to do the customary appetizer, then entrée thing? Can't they skip straight to dessert?

Because she needs to find a way to tell him that she loves him. A way that isn't preceded by dark talk of lying, desperate apologies, and excuses about fear.

They need to step into the light together.

* * *

><p>He squeezes her hand when she hisses at the prick of the needle.<p>

"Just a scratch, you said," complains Kate to the nurse, and Castle chuckles.

"Baby," he chides, speaking low in her ear, sending tingles down her spine.

"Sorry, hon. Not much flesh on this part," she explains, depressing the plunger all the way.

"Not much flesh on her period," mutters Castle, and Kate twists her head to stare open-mouthed at him.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "didn't mean to say that out loud."

"Well, you did. So for that you get to buy me breakfast," she adds bravely, challenging him to pull away again.

But it looks like he's not going anywhere. He squeezes her fingers again, leans back down and whispers, "It would be my pleasure, detective."

Okay, so that's later sorted. She just has to find a way to deal with now that will allow them to walk out of here together, more mended than broken.

* * *

><p>The doctor comes back in and replaces the nurse on the rolling stool. He jabs her foot around the open wound with the dull end of a needle.<p>

"Can you feel anything, Detective Beckett?"

She grasps Castle's hand even tighter, even although the local anesthetic has clearly done its' job, numbing the top of her foot completely.

"No," she shakes her head, and relaxes a little when Castle's free hand comes to rest on her shoulder.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you two weren't partners…I mean, on the job," says the doctor, taking in their joined hands and lack of personal space.

"No, we _are_…partners. At work," explains Kate.

But the doctor isn't getting it.

"That must make for some interesting times at home then. You figured out a way to leave the job at the door?" he asks. "Because my wife works upstairs as a surgeon, and the nights we've ended up sleepless in bed, tossing some patient issue or hospital politics around…"

He shakes his head, and then smiles at Kate again as he ties off the first suture.

Kate can feel Castle swallowing next to her ear. Do they let the doctor carry on believing that they're together, or do they stumble out an awkward, wordy, embarrassed explanation?

Kate can't think where to begin with either route, and Castle's uncharacteristic silence isn't helping.

"So, how did you two meet, anyway?" asks the chatty doctor. "On the job?"

Oh, they've got a live one here, and evidently _his_ night is slow, or maybe they're just a convenient excuse to avoid the screaming psychotic down the hall.

Kate answers first.

"Yeah. We met at work. I hated him at first," she says bluntly, just a hint of humor in her voice.

She laughs out loud and then flinches at Castle's sharp intake of breath.

Since when did he get so close? The thin membrane of her eardrum protests against the loud noise, ringing for the next sixty seconds.

"She was bossy and overbearing," throws in Castle, and this time the doctor laughs.

"He was a complete pain in the ass. Thought he was god's gift," Kate retorts.

"Well, I _was_," replies Castle, and Kate lets out a throaty guffaw that has him shaking beside her, his hand bobbing up and down on her rocking shoulder.

"Guy's, might want to scale back the laughter while I do this next suture," the doctor advises, enjoying their little exchange.

"Sorry," says Castle, sobering up, and Kate misses his laughter instantly.

"So how long did it take you to wear her down?" he asks Castle, and Kate freezes.

This is it. She sees it with a sudden flash of clarity. This is her chance.

* * *

><p>Castle clears his throat, and tries to drop her hand, but she clings on tightly, squeezing his fingers hard.<p>

"It took him nearly two years," says Kate clearly, squeezing his fingers again.

Two years for me to fall in love with him. Another year for him to tell me. And we're still not quite there yet.

"Two years. _Wow!_ Not such a fast mover then?" the doctor says, with a low whistle. "Guess you took some persuading," he says to Kate with a wink.

"Not really. I just wasn't very good at telling him," says Kate with complete honesty, owning the truth as she hazards a glance up at her stunned partner.

"Well, you got there in the end. I guess that's all that matters," says the doctor breezily, oblivious to the pained confusion on Castle's face, and the rigid concentration Kate's applying to hold everything else she wants to say in until they can get some time alone.

She's made a good start. He looks like someone just slapped him sideways, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Because it means he's too punch drunk to run, and if her next words cause him to collapse, then at least they're in a hospital, right?

"The course of true love never did run smooth, eh doc?" says Kate. "But we'll make it. I know we will," she says confidently.

It takes a beat or two of her hammering heart, but then she feels it, unmistakably. Castle's fingers are squeezing hers back.

_**Thoughts?**_


	5. Chapter 5  Doors To Manual

**The Nearest Exit May Be Behind You**

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert. I caved and watched Sneak Peak 5. This was the result…

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – Doors To Manual<strong>

"Right, we're all done here," says the doctor chirpily. "Keep it covered for a few days, and I'd stay off the stilettos if you can," he adds, staring down at Kate's skyscraper heels, then adds for Castle's benefit, "Sorry to spoil your fun, buddy."

Kate nearly chokes on her own tongue, and Castle goes one better, dissolving into a coughing fit so violent that he falls out through the curtained off area and into the corridor.

The doctor eyes him with momentary concern and then goes back to observing Kate's bandaged foot.

"Like I said, keep it clean and dry. The stitches will dissolve of their own volition. Now, I suggest you sit tight for a few more minutes while we complete your paperwork, and you get your sea legs back. Take as long as you need."

He stands up from the stool and sticks out his hand to Kate.

Castle is hovering at the edge of the curtain looking like a beaten dog.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Detectives," he says enthusiastically, shaking Kate's hand and then turning to do the same to Castle. "You keep riding that Love Train," he adds cheesily, winking at Kate, and slapping Castle heartily on the back, before taking his leave.

And then there were two.

* * *

><p>Kate sinks back against the pillows, while Castle maintains his distance over by the edge of the cubicle.<p>

"Castle," she says, not wanting to lose the forward momentum she has finally managed to establish within herself.

He sways, but doesn't move any closer, and he seems unable to look at her. She'd hoped for more than this after exposing herself in front of a complete stranger.

"Rick," she tries, and his head snaps up at the sound of his Christian name tripping off her tongue.

"Okay. _Enough_. You've had your fun, Kate. The Love Doctor isn't here anymore. So you can drop the act," he says stiffly, then looks at his shoes and scuffs the floor with his toe. "Let's just get the damn paperwork and get the hell out of here. I need to call Jacinda."

"Rick?"

She says his name again, and this time he looks at her as if she just kicked Alexis and then slapped his mother.

"_Stop it_! _Stop_…_toying_ with me, Kate. Just…just _stop_, would you? _Please?_" he grits out, the initial flare of anger draining away to something torturously exhausted and beaten down. He ends on a plea.

Kate is shocked by his outburst, by the anger, the hurt and the pain she's just heard in his voice. Her face is red, heat flaring up her chest and running up her neck. Did _she_ do this to him? Is that even possible?

"Castle, what on earth is going on? What do you think I'm _doing_ here?"

She watches him clench and unclench his fists. He's so wound up, energy racing through his body despite hours without sleep.

"Castle…talk to me," she says, gentling him with her voice. "_Please?_"

But he still looks completely out of it. He starts to pace, unable to stand still. When his silence drags on Kate realizes that there's obviously no way he's going to talk to her, so her only hope is that he will listen.

She clears her throat and begins to speak.

* * *

><p>"I'm kinda reaching here…but I thought we were making some progress earlier…in front of the doctor. Was I wrong, Castle? Because I think…I <em>know<em> that you heard what I said."

He abruptly stops pacing and looks up at her sharply.

"Heard _what_, Kate? When?" he asks, studying her face closely, his voice a rumble of barely contained anger.

"That you heard me…just now, with Dr. Benedict. Trying to tell you what I should have told you a long time ago, Castle. That…that I love you. That I've been _in_ love with you for so long now that the beginning part is just a blur somewhere back on the horizon."

He stares at her as if she's speaking a foreign language and the subtitles are in Swahili.

"Rick?" she prompts, holding out her hand to him and praying that he'll accept it.

He resolutely holds his ground.

"Do you have _nothing_ to say to that?" she asks, her brow wrinkling. "You can't have nothing to say to that," she says in disbelief. "_Castle?_"

He pauses a second, and then seems to make a decision.

"Oh, I have plenty to say, Kate. I've had plenty to say for a longtime, but you…you just didn't want to listen, did you?"

His anger flares again, and a bitter sarcasm infuses his voice. His eyes are a steely, flinty blue she's never seen before.

Her face flushes again, and she feels like he just slapped her. This wasn't what she was…_no_. Not at all.

"Castle, did you just hear what I said? I'm in love with you. Does that…I mean, you can't…" she runs a hand through her hair, disbelieving. "Does that mean _nothing_ to you?"

He looks straight at her, meets her gaze levelly. But his eyes are dead, until he sees the tears rise in hers. Then he blinks, just once, but she sees it. Sees something chip off, a piece of flint falling away.

* * *

><p>"You heard me," he says finally, and Kate sits up straighter, tries to bend her sleep-deprived mind around whatever it is that he's trying to tell her.<p>

"I…Castle, what are you talking about?"

"You heard me, in the cemetery, Kate, and you've been lying about it all this time."

He's got her, and they both know it. There's no dancing out of this one.

"How did…?"

He cuts her off. "Interrogation room."

_Oh god._

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she says, panicking.

"You're sorry? Oh, well great, thanks. That makes it all okay then," he says sarcastically.

"Castle…"

"Don't Kate. Just…don't," he says, pacing away from the bed again.

"What do you want me to say? How…how can I fix this?" she asks, desperate to do anything if he'll only give her another chance.

"Fix it?" He seems to puzzle the question for a bit. "Fix it? Oh, I don't know. How _do_ you repair months of enforced separation and rejection, followed by more months of denial and holding at arms length, served with a big side order of lukewarm affection and lies?"

"Lukewarm? Lukewarm?" she asks, anger and humiliation flaring inside her. "You may have managed to choke out that you loved me while I lay dying on the grass, Castle. But you didn't seem to have the guts to repeat it to my face once I was conscious and able to listen to you. How was I to know you even _meant it_? Ever heard of deathbed confessions? Cause they work just as well for the living as they do for the dying."

He looks broken in two when she's finish with that one, and Kate's not sure where this is headed next.

"So, _what_…was I supposed to take Josh out with a single blow to his cut glass jaw, or just profess my love for you right there in front of him? Is that how it was supposed to work, Kate?"

"He meant nothing to me by then, Castle," said Kate flatly.

"And I was supposed to know this big secret _how_, Kate? Because you never talk about any of this stuff."

He has a point, but she's in no mood to concede it.

"Well, if we're talking about secrets, Castle. How about this one for humiliating? I was on the verge of telling you how I felt about you two summers ago, and everyone at work knew about it. In fact, I was about to tell you that I would go with you to the Hamptons when Gina showed up, and you sailed off into the sunset with her, and disappeared until the Fall. So don't tell me about separation and rejection, because I've had a belly full."

* * *

><p>His phone takes this moment to spring to life once more, the screen lighting up where he's left it lying on the chair. It dances and buzzes tauntingly across the surface.<p>

They both stare at it in horror.

"And you remember when you accused me of hiding in nowhere relationships with men I didn't love? Well you were right. But I never figured we'd be where we are now and you'd be doing the _exact same thing_," she says, looking pointedly at his phone.

"Touché," he replies bitterly, pressing the _reject call_ button, and then dropping the phone onto the bed beside her, almost as if he's handing her control.

* * *

><p>He sinks down onto the plastic chair, and props his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands, all the fight seemingly drained out of him.<p>

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes. The hospital buzzes around them, somewhere out beyond the curtain.

Kate's head throbs, and she lifts her fingers to massage her temples, allowing her eyes to fall closed.

"I didn't know, dammit. I didn't know," he repeats, his voice full of frustration and longing for all that lost time, and when Kate opens her eyes he's staring at her.

There's pain there, but somehow it's a different kind of pain. It burns less brightly, and it's coated with regret, softened by hope.

"Kate…_my_ _god_," he groans. "Why didn't you _say_ something?"

But it's not really a question he expects her to answer. They both know that.

"We really made a mess of things," he says, rubbing at his jaw, head ducking down.

Silence falls over the little room once more, and they're both lost in their own thoughts for a moment.

* * *

><p>"So…you're in love with me?" he asks suddenly, stunning her with a ghost of a smile.<p>

It comes out of nowhere, and is more, way more, than she could have hoped for.

"I might be reviewing my options," she deadpans, and he roars out a laugh, throwing his head right back, eyes falling closed, slapping his thighs with his hands in delight at her joke.

It breaks the tension clean in two.

Kate smiles at his uncontrolled laughter, amazed he still has the energy after this long, distressing night.

"You're lying, Detective. I know all your tells," he warns her.

"That so?" she asks flirtatiously. "Then what does this one mean?" she asks, swiftly leaning over and capturing his mouth with her own, her hand sliding around the back of his neck to pull him to her and hold him there.

When she pulls away he's dazed and speechless.

"Not sure. You'll have to show me again," he says when he finds his voice, eyes twinkling with joy and pure excitement.

Kate reaches out, takes his hand.

"Oh, Kate," he says, his voice low and adoring, breaking over the words. "I love you, so, so much it pains me."

His eyes glisten with the confession.

"That doesn't sound good," she replies, tilting her head to the side to observe him with a look of amusement shot through with tenderness. "How about we just work on the loving part and ditch the pain thing?" she suggests, smoothing her fingers over the back of his hand.

"I would like nothing more," he says, standing to kiss her gently, until a swell of need rises between them, shocking them both apart.

"We need to get out of here," says Kate suddenly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Hand me my shoe?"

She watches in amusement as he kneels in front of her and slips her shoe onto her foot. "I seem to recall owing you breakfast," he says, rising up to kiss her on the nose, his hands resting on her thighs; heavy and warm, anchoring her.

Castle steps closer, trapping her between his legs, then he wraps his arms around her and pulls her against his chest, enfolding her in a fierce embrace.

"No more secrets, and no more summers apart," he whispers into her hair.

Kate's smile drops from her lips, and she pushes back on his shoulders to look up at him.

"Then there's just one more thing I need to get off my chest."

Castle swallows, and his eyes search hers, a hint of the old fear returning.

"Tonight, in that alley…I lied when I told you I accidently kicked that bottle over. I actually picked it up and threw it at the wall so you wouldn't leave," Kate confesses. "I didn't know what else to do and you've been so distant…"

Castle cuts her off.

"I know," he admits, quietly.

"You…_how?_" she asks, disbelieving.

"I couldn't leave, Kate. You asked me to wait, to listen to you, and as mad at you as I was…I couldn't deny you that. I've never been able you deny you anything. So I'd already turned back when you threw the bottle against the wall."

She's stunned. Simply stunned by all of it.

"So…why didn't you call me on it? I lied to your face," she says, her cheeks flushing with shame.

Castle shrugs, looks a little sheepish.

"You were bleeding, I never could resist a damsel in distress, and you'd just admitted that you cared about me, Kate." He shakes his head, "I needed to hear how our story would end."

She launches herself at him; arms, legs, heart, all wrapped around him, good and firm and strong, this generous, patient, kind, silly man.

"Write it with me, Castle?" she whimpers, tears leaking down her face. "Write it with me. _Please?_"

"Until we run out of words, Kate. Just try and stop me."

_**The End. **_

_**Love to hear your thoughts. xxx**_


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